


in sweet harmony

by colourexplosion



Series: sweet harmony [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourexplosion/pseuds/colourexplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis leaves his laptop open on his bunk. harry finds it. and his porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in sweet harmony

**Author's Note:**

> **THIS IS A WATERSPORTS FIC**. That's it. That's all it is. There's a part where Harry refers to the act as "bedwetting" because he's too chicken to call it by its name. A big thanks to Kate for reading over this for me and not laughing in my face when I asked her to. 
> 
> none of this is true and please never show to anyone outside of fandom. thank you. enjoy!

At first, Harry thinks it's a joke.

Louis has left his laptop open and sitting in the middle of his empty bunk. The screen lights up when Harry hits the spacebar, and he types in Louis' password without thinking about it. They all share so much. This can't be too different.

Except it is, because it's porn. Louis -- who hardly lets anyone touch his phone and who only smirks when you ask him what he's working on -- has left his laptop open and paused on a video. It's pretty run of the mill, for porn at least. A hot, tattooed bloke standing over another, slightly smaller tattooed bloke, the latter with his mouth open and peering up at the other from under his eyelashes.

Harry knows that Louis' been more into men lately, probably because he's broken up with Eleanor after nearly four years and Harry knows he must be missing dicks something awful. Harry would be, at least. But still. He can't shake the feeling like he was supposed to find this. Like he's supposed to watch and play right into whatever game Louis has come up with this time.

He sighs, slips an earbud into his ear and presses play.

His ears are immediately assaulted by a loud moan and the slick sound of one of them stroking themselves.

"You want it?" the taller one says, his hand speeding up on himself as the bloke on the floor nods frantically.

"Please," he says with a whimper, tilting his head, and the change in angle makes him look almost exactly like Louis.

"Oh, fuck," Harry murmurs to himself, trying to ignore the way his cock's stiffening up in his jeans. It's just -- now he can't stop picturing it, Louis like that, on his knees all flushed and desperate for it. God, he hasn't had these sorts of thoughts since he was sixteen and half in love with everyone he met and more than half in love with Louis.

"Not until you do it for me, baby," the man says, snapping Harry's attention back to the video. The small one whimpers, leaning into the other's hand when he cups his cheek.

"You can do it," he says, croons, almost, and that gets Harry even harder, makes him rock his hips a little so he can find some pressure against the tight seam of his jeans.

The bloke on the floor presses his face into the other man's thigh, making these desperate noises as his hips roll under him. Harry assumes he's got a plug in him or something, otherwise he can't make sense of the way the bloke's whispering out "fuck, fuck, fuck," all high pitched and needy. He's also not touching himself, so Harry takes that to mean he's supposed to come untouched. It's hotter than Harry really wants to let himself think about.

He doesn’t have to think about it, thankfully, because the bloke’s face screws up and he lets out one last desperate noise before a long groan, his hips still punching into air as he comes. Except, whatever’s coming out of his cock isn’t white and pearly, doesn’t splatter everywhere like it should, and it takes Harry entirely too to figure out that he’s not coming. He’s _pissing._

What the fuck has Louis been watching? 

“Shit,” Harry says, ragged and too fucking breathless for his own good. His own cock’s gone from hard to painfully hard and aching in about five seconds, but before he can get a hand on himself to do anything about it, someone reaches around him and slams the laptop shut. Harry turns, wide-eyed and feeling so fucking out of sorts that he can’t even be embarrassed when it turns out to be Louis, glaring at him. 

“It’s rude to snoop in other people’s things,” Louis says, and Harry can’t even argue the absurdity of that statement coming from him, of all people, because he has to know: 

“Is this a prank?” 

Louis gives him an unimpressed look, eyebrow arching on his forehead. He doesn’t answer, though, so Harry turns to face him fully, ripping the earbud out of his ear and reaching for Louis. He knows what he must look like, lips red from where he’s been biting them, his jeans bulged in an obscene way. This whole thing is just obscene. It’s too fucking much. 

“Louis,” he says, voice still ragged and broken sounding. “Was this a fucking prank??” If it was, it wasn’t funny. Harry feels too hot under his skin, stretched tight and his chest twisted in a way that he doesn’t know what to do with. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Louis says, and Harry laughs, hysterical. 

“Did you want me to find it? Did you leave it there on purpose?” 

Louis stills, his eyes flicking to the laptop for a long moment. He pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes squeezing shut, and that’s always the face he makes before he’s about to admit to something he doesn’t want to. Harry has no clue which it’s going to be, can’t tell from this reaction whether Louis left the laptop there as a joke or whether he’s actually just stumbled onto one of Louis' secret kinks. 

“It wasn’t a prank,” Louis says, and Harry hears his own breath leave him in a jagged exhale. God, _fuck_ , Louis gets off to people pissing themselves. Maybe Louis even wants someone to make him piss himself. 

“I have to -- “ Harry points in a direction that leads out of the bunks, not really caring where it takes him. He stumbles out, feeling wild and strung too tight and locks himself in the tiny toilet to pull one off. 

He slides to the floor when he’s done, his hand sticky and his cock still half-hard. He could go again, probably. He could come again to the thought of Louis desperate and writhing and pissing all over himself. 

He doesn’t, because even Harry has limits. But he could. 

\-- 

Louis avoids him as well as he can for the next three days. Harry lets him, because he still feels weird about it as well. He feels bad, for one thing, like he’s invaded Louis’ privacy and took advantage of him somehow. He’d like to apologize for it, but, well. Louis is avoiding him. He’s been sitting on the other end of the plane from Harry, tucking himself between Zayn and Liam and decidedly not looking Harry’s way at all. He’s been avoiding him at venues and only interacting the necessary amount onstage. 

It’d be hurtful if Harry thought it were meant to be malicious, and maybe also if he hadn’t spent two years looking at Louis from afar while they both figured their shit out in the wake of realizing they were head over heels for each other. Well, that’s what it was for Harry, at least. He’d admitted to himself that he was in love with his best mate and then his best mate went and got a girlfriend. He’d let himself believe that Louis wanted him too, that he was just as in it as Harry had always been, but. That hadn’t been the case. So Harry had distanced himself, tried to toughen up and navigate his way through pop stardom without the only person he’d wanted to share it with there. It got easier after the long break following the TMH tour, and even easier when Harry realized he could be Louis’ friend again without wanting more. That it’d be enough, this time around. 

The porn thing puts a bit of a damper on that, but it’s fine. Harry’s confident he can work through it. 

He finally manages to catch Louis alone on the bus, when they’re driving...somewhere. They’re in Europe still, Harry’s pretty sure. He’s not sure why they’re not just on the plane, but he doesn’t want to ask Paul about it. The look he knows he’d get in response isn’t worth it. 

“Hey,” he says, flopping down in the seat next to Louis. They’re alone on this bus, with Zayn having moved to the other to see Liam and Niall at their last pit stop. “Can we talk?” 

“Pretty sure that’s what we’re doing right now, Curly,” Louis says, not looking up from his phone. Harry rolls his eyes. He should’ve guessed Louis wouldn’t make this easy for him. 

“Lou,” he says, sighing. “Look, I’m sorry. About the other day. With your -- laptop. Y’know.” 

Louis frowns and looks up at him, setting his phone in his lap. “Why?” 

Harry blinks. “What?” 

“Why are you sorry?” Louis asks, and Harry’s face scrunches in confusion. 

“Um. Because I invaded your privacy? I dunno. Pretty shit thing to do, getting on your computer without asking,” he says, shrugging. 

Louis looks at him a moment, still frowning, like he’s looking for something in Harry’s face. His expression clears and he shrugs, making to pick up his phone again. “Whatever,” he says, “It’s fine. It happens. We all live on top of each other. Not a big deal.” 

“Cool,” Harry says, falling silent as Louis picks up his phone again. It’s quiet after that, save for the roaring of the wind outside the bus windows and the little _click-clacks_ of the keyboard on Louis’ phone. It’s alright for a few minutes, comfortable even, but Harry has always had trouble keeping his stupid mouth shut. 

“So,” he says, picking at a thread on his jeans. “Are you like, into that?” 

Louis’ eyebrow arches again. “Into what?” 

Christ, of course he’s making Harry work for it. Harry rubs a hand over his mouth before answering. 

“Bedwetting,” he says eventually, because saying _pissing yourself_ seems like it’d scare Louis off and there’s no way in hell Harry’s ever going to say _watersports_ in a serious conversation. 

“Bedwetting,” Louis repeats, and Harry nods. Louis mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but can’t let himself, and Harry feels some of the tension ease out of him. 

“Are you,” Harry says again, prodding Louis with his elbow. 

“Pretty sure porn’s a good indicator of whether or not someone’s into something, Haz,” Louis says, and Harry shrugs. 

“Dunno, you could’ve been like, experimenting. Trying new things, expanding your horizons,” Harry offers and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck off,” he says, but there’s no heat to it. His cheeks flush pink before he says, so quietly that Harry almost doesn’t catch it, “Yeah, I’m into it.” 

“Oh,” Harry says. He isn’t surprised by the answer, but he’s surprised at how affected Louis seems just talking about it. His cheeks have flushed and he’s started squirming, and Harry can’t help but wonder if he’s gone piss in the last few hours. He saw Louis chug two cups of tea this morning, but hasn’t heard the flush of the toilet in a while. He licks his lips at the thought, swallowing even though his throat’s gone dry. 

“Don’t you want to know why?” Louis asks, shifting again, clearly uncomfortable, and God, Harry wants to kiss him. 

“No,” he croaks, “no, I think I get it.” 

Louis nods like he expected as much. 

“Have you ever -- “ Harry starts, but has to clear his throat. “Have you… wet the bed recently?” 

“I’ve never wet the bed,” Louis says slowly, significantly. “Alone or with anyone else.” 

“Really?” Harry feels dizzy all of a sudden, like he’s been blown back by a huge gust of wind, like when you open the door to your house in the middle of winter and get smacked in the face by cold. Except, the door is Louis’ kinks and the wind is the knowledge of Lou’s experience with those kinks and Harry doesn’t feel cold at all. He feels very warm, in fact. Very warm. “You’ve never wet the bed? Not even when you were a kid? Because -- “

“Harry,” Louis interrupts, putting a hand over Harry’s mouth. His palm is warm and soft and Harry can’t hold back a tiny whimper. “Focus, please.” 

Harry nods and Louis removes his hand. They look at each other for a moment, Louis’ sharp eyes searching for something in Harry’s, but then his gaze falls to Harry’s mouth and back up and Harry feels a lick of heat up his spine so strong that he shivers with it. 

“I’ve never wet the bed either,” he says, not caring about how ridiculous it sounds or how vulnerable he feels. He’s opening himself to Louis in a way that he hasn’t in years, and it feels like too much, feels like Louis might just smash his heart again at any moment, but he doesn’t _care._ “But I’d be willing to try.” 

Both of Louis’ eyebrows rise this time, arching high on his forehead. He looks pleasantly surprised, if not a bit hesitant about it. “Really?” 

Harry nods. “Definitely. So if you ever. Y’know.” 

“Yeah,” Louis says, smiling softly at him. “Thanks.” 

\--

Harry doesn’t ever expect Louis to take him up on it, is the thing. He expects that Louis won’t ever mention it again and they’ll just go on being mates and maybe sometimes Harry will pull one off to the thought of it but everything besides that will be normal. 

He doesn’t expect Louis to corner him in his hotel room a few weeks later, hands digging into Harry’s hips and looking like he’s about to shake out of his skin. 

“Are you on something?” Harry asks, because Louis’ honestly just blown in through the door spent a few minutes pacing the room before he’d shoved Harry up against the wall. 

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “Really need the loo.” 

_Oh._ Arousal kicks up in Harry’s belly, twisting through him the longer he looks at Louis’ flushed cheeks and wild eyes. He hadn’t ever expected this, not in a million years. Louis never takes him up on anything he offers. 

“You know where it is,” Harry murmurs to him, cupping a hand around the nape of Louis’ neck. He loses some of his tension then, his shoulders sagging slightly and his head tipping back into Harry’s hand. 

“Want you to come with me,” Louis says back, his eyes closing as Harry drags his fingers through his hair. 

“Alright,” Harry whispers, and lets himself be led into the bathroom. 

Louis gets his hands under Harry’s shirt the moment they’re in, his warm palms skittering up Harry’s sides and tugging his t-shirt off. Harry lets him do it, lets him take it at his own pace because he knows Louis needs something to hold onto, especially when he’s about to let himself go in such a big way. Louis works on Harry’s jeans next, peeling them open and shoving them down his legs, hardly even looking at the tent in Harry’s pants. 

“Want me to do yours?” Harry asks, cupping Louis’ head again. Louis nods and Harry crowds him into the counter, getting him out of his shirt and track pants. The flush on Louis’ cheeks has spread across his chest too, arousal turning his nipples into hard little buds that Harry can’t resist. He bends down to get his mouth on one, grinning against Louis’ chest as his hand tightens in Harry’s curls, tugging. 

“Yeah?” Harry says quietly, looking up at Louis. Louis nods, tugs him up with the hand in his hair and pulls him close. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Louis says, and brings him down into a kiss. 

Kissing Louis isn’t really new. They’ve done their fair share of it, spent long hours in the X Factor house snogging until their mouths were red and bruised. It was never more than kissing, though, and it was never anything like this. Back then it’d been sweet and searching and more of a comfort than anything else. Now it’s hard and slick and needy, with Louis’ legs wrapped tightly around Harry’s hips and their hard dicks rubbing up against each other. It’s more than Harry thought it would be, and he has to break off for a breath, unable to hide a smile when Louis makes a little noise and chases his mouth. 

“Please,” Louis says, his hips shifting. Harry can only imagine how it must feel, desperate and slightly painful and probably absolutely amazing. Louis’ eyes are nearly blown black and his hips keep rocking toward Harry’s like he can’t help it. 

“Anything,” Harry says and lifts Louis off the counter to take him into the shower. Not for the first time, he’s thankful that their level of success means they’re not crammed into a tiny tub/shower combo, though Harry’s fairly certain it wouldn’t matter. He wants Louis like this anywhere, anytime. 

He presses Louis to the shower wall, wincing in sympathy when Louis lets out a hiss. 

“It’s cold, you fucker,” he says, hands gripping at Harry’s shoulders. Harry rolls his body into Louis’, working a hand under the waistband of his pants to tug them down enough to free his cock. It’s hard, shiny and flushed just like his cheeks and chest and Harry wants it in his mouth. 

“I’ll blow you when you’re done,” he says, pressing his mouth to Louis’ ear, wrapping a hand around him. “When you’ve wet yourself and I’ve rinsed you off, I’ll give you a reward. For being such a good boy.” 

“Harry,” Louis chokes out, his hips stuttering again. His chest is heaving, like he’s really trying to control himself, but that’s not what Harry wants. He wants to see Louis let go, lose control, and then he wants to make him come. 

“You’re so good for me, Lou, so perfect, you know that?” He wraps a hand around Louis’ dick, stroking slowly a few times to hear the whimper wrenched from Louis’ throat. “No one else I’d want to do this with. No one but you.” 

“Fuck,” Louis says, but it sounds more like a sob. “Harry, please.” 

Harry shushes him, kisses him gently even though his back’s starting to hurt from holding Louis up. It doesn’t really matter, this is more important and it’s not like the pain is making his dick any less painfully hard. “You’re okay,” he says, kissing Louis over and over, swallowing up his noises. “You’re perfect, baby, please. Just let go.” 

Louis takes in a shuddering breath and the next thing Harry feels is warm wetness between them, over his hand and their bellies and legs. Harry watches him fall apart, watches his face crumple and his body shudder in relief. It goes on for a long time, long enough that Harry wonders how long Louis made himself wait and whether or not they’re ever going to do this again. God, Harry hopes they’ll do it again. 

Louis looks up at him when he’s done, heavy lidded and completely wrung out, tear tracks down his cheeks, though Harry hadn’t even realized he was crying. He uses his clean hand to wipe Louis’ cheeks and presses a gentle kiss to Louis’ mouth. The noise Louis makes, though -- desperate and hungry-sounding -- brings Harry’s own arousal back into sharp awareness. 

“Get me off,” Louis says, and Harry kisses him again, hard and to the point, smirking when Louis practically melts beneath him. Harry pushes his own underwear off and wraps a hand around both of their dicks, brings them off together, coming so hard that it splatters up Louis’ chest, almost to his chin. He lets Louis down and flops onto his back on the shower floor, letting out a groan as he stretches his muscles. 

He watches Louis stand and turn on the water, flinching when the cold hits him and stepping away quickly. Harry laughs, but it turns into a loud yelp when Louis turns the shower head on him, shivering with the shock of it. 

“Rude,” he says, still shivering as the water turns warm and gentle. Louis fiddles with the knobs for a moment before rinsing himself off and then lays himself down on the floor next to Harry. 

“It’s disgusting down here, y’know,” Louis says conversationally, his fingertips trailing over Harry’s stomach, making it contract with the sensation. “Don’t even know if it’s been cleaned.” 

“I know,” Harry answers, and leans in conspiratorily. “Y’know, I heard some people piss in the shower.” 

“Fuck off,” Louis says, but the way he laughs tells Harry all he needs to know.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm here](http://jessimond.tumblr.com) if you need to talk about it. thanks for reading!


End file.
